Fishing Foster Lake

Fishing Foster Lake

Fishing Foster Lake Fishing Foster Lake is excerpted from our 1986 memoirs of our North American Journey in a Chinook camper. We drove up the Pacific Coast of California, Oregon, Washington, Canada and Alaska, then across towards the East Coast of the United States,...
Vatican City Treasures

Vatican City Treasures

Vatican City Treasures Our vacation to Italy was in 2012 but still resonates.  In particular, our visit to see Vatican City treasures revealed countless objects of art, paintings, sculptures, murals, weavings and ephemera from around the world all gathered in one...
Office Receptionist – A Gatekeeper’s Tales

Office Receptionist – A Gatekeeper’s Tales

After paying my dues as an employee answering to a series of bosses for almost 20 years, I joined my husband as a partner in his video production company, Crystal Pyramid Productions, where I have managed the helm of our “star ship” for the last four decades (at first part-time, and then full-time), cruising through meteor showers, wormholes and an Aurora Borealis or two. Because of my charm and fabulous voice, I have also been the one answering the phone – the “Gatekeeper.”

Westfield Horton Plaza

Westfield Horton Plaza

Westfield Horton Plaza was like the MC Escher print with the staircase to nowhere. Once his blueprints had come to life, even the original architect got lost inside the maze he had created, while trying to navigate the various shops. This is unsurprising. Just about every time I ever went there, I ended up getting lost. And when I chat with friends about the Plaza, they admit they got lost, too.  You really had to remember where you parked your car and where it was in relation to nearby shops.  It was not the place to go if you were short on time.  If you had a few hours to spend there, you may have enjoyed the puzzle-like ramps and stairs leading up, down and all around.

Hotel Cimabue Florence

Hotel Cimabue Florence

In 1980, when I was a young traveler with little money, I stayed at hostels.  When I arrived in Florence, the hostel had no vacancy. So I ended up sleeping on the lawn in front of the train station. This was pleasant, as I was surrounded by other young travelers who dotted the landscape like cocoons that night.  Pleasant, that is, until 5:30 AM when a police officer thumped his baton on my sleeping bag.